


Picard and Q on Demos

by internetname



Series: Demos [1]
Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-07
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2018-03-06 13:28:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3136145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/internetname/pseuds/internetname
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>See title.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Picard and Q on Demos

**Author's Note:**

> I and some other P/Q writers enjoy making what we call TrekSmut Illustrated Moments. Costumes are emphasized, and the Picard and Q who appear in the stories are usually not Captain Picard and Q of the Continuum. (We also call these "And Then They Fuck" stories. They're short and fun and give them a try!

(Okay, this is a TrekSmut Illustrated Moment that got way out of hand.)

Jean-Luc Picard put down his heat shield and turned north. His steps relied completely now on the instrument readings inside his helmet and the care with which he set his feet on the rocky surface of Demos. In addition to heat and clearance readings, his sensors were also picking up the movements of his mining buddy, three point seven five meters to his right. Q was also a few steps ahead of him, doubtlessly eager to return to base. 

Picard sighed, safe inside his shieldsuit. Q and every other unattached miner in Demos Beta would be getting back to base eagerly for a while now. For as long, anyway, as it took them to settle the question of who settled in with the new crew's three unattached female members. They were all good-looking, strong women, in shape and outspoken. It wouldn't take long. 

He sighed again, feeling foolish. 

It was essential in a place like this to find someone. Vids and books turned ice cold in a body and mind that spent the days mining ore on a rock six weeks' journey from breathable atmosphere. Picard's bed had been empty since he got here, much to the curiosity of the people he worked with. He knew he'd picked up a few nicknames around base regarding his evident lack of need for comfort. And the refusals he'd given had been met not with resentment, but unconcealed incredulity. 

It was all his partner's fault. 

Since he'd laid eyes on the tall, dark-haired, cocky miner, seeing Q's arm draped around the woman he'd been chasing -- and catching, like he caught all of them -- Picard had wanted the man so intensely that loneliness was somehow better than a substitute, even here, on Demos. He'd practically dropped his teeth at his good fortune in getting selected as Q's mining buddy...and then had spent many nights cursing his luck. It was agony, plain and simple, to be "buddies" with Q. 

It was even worse in some ways that they actually had become friends. Q was always wanting to hang out together after shift, keeping up a running commentary on the women he'd been with or was going to be with. Picard spent his time gritting his teeth and willing his erection down as visions of Q filled him: Q naked, Q touching women, Q touching him, Q fucking...Q being fucked. 

Picard almost stumbled, cursed at himself, and banished Q from his thoughts. He'd get back to his tiny cabin and jerk off before dinner. Pathetic asshole. 

"Hey, Johnny. You all right?" Q's voice asked inside his helmet. 

"Yeah, I'm fine. Got a loose rock under me." 

"You watch it. If I have to come back for you and waste my chance with Ellen..." 

"Which one is Ellen?" 

"Are you blind, man? When are you going to loosen up and take what life has to offer you?" 

Picard altered his course slightly to walk around a small boulder. 

"Tell you what," Q was saying. "I'll introduce you to Ellen, and we'll see if we can't get Nakeesha to --" 

A klaxon drowned out the last of Q's suggestion and Picard felt his skin prickle with the loss of his airseal. He sank instantly to his knees, grabbing at the back-up controls and praying he wasn't venting. The suit repressurized, but he could smell the poison of the pre-Terra-formed atmosphere. He kept it out of his lungs by sucking on his emergency tube, his eyes shut tight against the corrosive air, and wondered dimly whether he would die. 

Strong hands were around his arms, pulling him up. He couldn't hear what Q was saying over his suit's alarm, and moving went against safety standards, but he didn't even think to resist as Q guided his steps forward. Only a few steps brought them to much smoother ground, and he realized they were closer to the lock than he'd thought. A few more steps, and Q shoved him through the lock and hit the emergency release. The door clanged shut and the atmosphere was replaced almost instantly as Q helped him rip his suit off. Naked, gasping in the oxygen-heavy air, he felt Q shove him into the flood cubicle as water doused him, sluicing away all trace of the gases which had almost killed him. After several moments, he turned off the water and grabbed the hand-scanner. The computer pronounced him clean, and, breathing relief, he leaned back against the wet metal of the cubicle wall and closed his eyes. 

"You okay?" 

Jean-Luc opened his eyes up again, smiling at the man who'd saved him from a gruesome and somewhat embarrassingly meaningless death, and watched Q smile back at him. The moment was so good, and that luscious smile so perfect, that for a moment Jean-Luc forgot to keep his guard up, and his body responded to the sight of Q, half-stripped from his own suit, his bare skin in sharp contrast over the heavy padded pants, the enormous boots, the helmet on the floor. 

Q laughed. "I see you're feeling okay, then." Picard took a second to realize what was happening. "Maybe you'd like to meet Nakeesha after all?" 

Snapping out of it, Picard shrugged away from the wall and felt his semi-erection wilt in record speed. Not meeting Q's eyes, he reached for the dryer and turned the air vents to "High" while he grabbed a towel to speed things along. A moment later, he'd flung the towel down and was reaching for his softsuit. He'd have to go by medical now, and fill out a few reports. 

"Johnny?" Q sounded almost hurt, but Picard knew it was only confusion. 

"Sorry, Q. Just tired. You know." 

"Johnny, look at me." 

His softsuit half-on, Picard looked at his friend and tried to smile again, casually, as though it all meant nothing and his heart wasn't shriveling up in his chest. 

"Sorry, buddy. Just got a little excited to be alive, you know?" 

Q shook his head. "Why didn't you tell me?" 

Picard pulled the suit up over his shoulders, shrugging into it, having no idea how exactly the pliant white fabric hugged his every curve. He did notice that Q's eyes dropped to sweep over him before they returned to his face. Q's own face got slightly red. 

"Look, uh, Jean-Luc. I'm sorry, but --" 

"It's all right, really." Picard smiled, the brittle expression costing him everything he had right then. "I've noticed I'm not exactly your type." 

Q frowned, and shrugged his way out of the suit, unaware how much it took for Picard not to stare at his plain white briefs, and reached for his own softsuit. "I don't get it. Ramirez and Peaks, you could --" 

"Not all homosexuals fuck anything that moves," Picard snarled. Q's eyes got wide. 

"I didn't mean that, Johnny." 

Picard closed his eyes, sighed. "I know." God, it was such a relief to talk about this. "This doesn't have to change anything. Our shift's only got another couple months." He opened his eyes, tried to look calm. "I really don't want another buddy, and --" 

"What kind of a fuckhead you think I am, anyway?" 

"Sorry, sorry." Picard put up his hands, exhausted. "I'm just new to this." 

"New to what? Weren't you gay before?" 

Jean-Luc laughed. "Of course, since I was thirteen. I'm just new to..." He shrugged. "...pining after someone." 

Q frowned even harder, tugging his softsuit into place, then suddenly smirked. "You, Johnny? You been pining after me?" 

Picard shrugged, looking to the hatch. It was time they got out of the lock. 

"Yes, yes, Q. Now let's --" 

"You been dreamin' about my sexy body?" Q was pulling a vamp act, waving his arms out at the elbows, wiggling his hips a bit as he stepped close. "You been wishing you could have my fabulous little -- mmmph! 

Jean-Luc enjoyed the kiss, for all that Q wasn't responding. The tall man's biceps were hard in his grip, and he was warm, and quite, quite real. With reluctance, he let him go, and smiled grimly into Q's startled eyes. 

And then, there was something else there, something...intrigued. 

Picard made it slower this time, better, pressing gently but with intent against that luscious mouth of his dreams. Though Jean-Luc had his hand around the back of his friend's neck, Q was tall enough to end it simply by moving his head back. He didn't. And when Picard gently slid his tongue over those lips, they opened slightly, with a gasp, and the man slipped inside, drinking sweetness and heat. 

Q groaned, and Picard pressed him back against the sealed hatch. Large hands had grabbed his shoulders, pulling at him, and when he molded his body to Q's, he felt that stab against his stomach and smiled. 

It had been too long, too difficult, and too lonely for Jean-Luc. Though a voice warned him this was the wrong thing to do, he dropped to his knees, felt for the slit in the soft white cotton and brought out the hard organ, stroking it, listening to Q moan and feeling him sway dizzily before propping himself against the hatch, hips thrusting slightly forward. 

He had a lovely, straight cock, thick and long, perhaps near the size of Picard's own sometimes awkwardly large penis. The veins ran close to the surface, and faintly pulsed in his hand. 

Frightened that Q would call a halt any moment, he stroked again and again, finding that sensitive spot underneath, until there was a drop of wetness at the tip, and then he leaned in, engraving each detail of this moment out of time and sanity on his soul, taking Q's velvet shaft in his mouth, tasting his strong salt, sucking hard, licking, reveling in the sounds of pleasure from Q's body. As they found a rhythm, Jean-Luc dropped one hand to his own lap, smoothly grasping the almost painful hardness there, stroking himself in time with the motions of his mouth, his own soft skin wildly arousing now because it matched the softness against his tongue, his lips. 

Rushing it a bit, keeping up the intensity to keep Q from thought and from regrets, he took him in deep and sucked hard, his hand a blur over his own cock. Q thrust forward and came, forcefully, and Picard swallowed, shuddering, before he released Q and screamed through his own climax. He got dizzy a moment and rested his head against the top of Q's strong thigh, gasping, hearing Q's ragged breathing, and, for just a moment, it was perfect. 

He actually felt the muscle tense against his forehead, and pulled away. He stood, scooping the wet towel from the floor and cleaning himself. He saw without looking up as Q straightened away from the wall, tucked himself back in, and stared at the floor. 

With a sigh, Picard made himself presentable, tossed the towel in the processor, gathered up his damaged suit, and looked Q in the eyes. 

"Whatever you want, however you want to play this, I'll go along with it. You want to see me some more, you can. You want me never to mention it again, I won't." Picard faltered just slightly then, his gaze falling heavily to the sweat-damp curves of the thin cotton against the man's luscious body. Q's skin was flushed, his hair slightly damp as well, his eyes wild. He thought of what more he wanted to do with that long, tall form, and felt his blood start heating again. 

"Johnny," Q said desperately. "I don't -- I don't know..." 

"It's all right," Jean-Luc soothed, forcing his eyes up and smiling as tamely as he could. "Whatever you want. It's all right. And you can tell me what you want when you're ready." 

Q was obviously longing for escape, so Jean-Luc reached for the release on the hatch. Q seemed to be reaching out to stop him, then stood still while the metal slid back with a clang. 

"I have to head to Medical," Picard said casually. "See you at the bar?" 

"Yeah...uh...sure," Q got out, then grabbed his own suit, threw it into its clamp on the corridor wall, and sped away without a glance back. 

~~~//~~~ 

The bar was always crowded. With miners working four shifts and all of them heading for the bar when they were done, there was usually an over-lap in a space designed to serve only one shift at a time. The miners had done what they could, opening out the space by tearing down the wall between the conference room and the bar (and getting rid of the conference room), and making up a few tables from odd parts. But no one really minded the crunch. After working a shift inside a suit with nothing but one's instruments to keep one company, a little jostling was welcome. 

Picard entered the room slowly and spotted Q with his arm around Ellen while he talked to the other new girl -- Nakeesha? -- and drank a beer. Picard walked to the bar and got a beer without having to ask. He turned, sipping slowly, until it was clear Q wasn't going to meet his eyes. He stayed a little while longer, finishing his drink, then headed for his room. 

The tiny compartment was well-ventilated and really not too bad for lying on the bed, which he did a lot when he was reading. The base actually had an excellent library, and he had about twenty books checked out right now, lined up on a shelf above his squat headboard. He grabbed one from the middle and opened it. 

Billy had become unstuck in time. 

Picard closed his eyes, allowing his body to fall completely to the bed. He stared into the light in the center of his ceiling. He thought about the shift, about the repairs to his suit, about the poison gas which held them all inside the camp. 

Having Q come in his mouth had been the best sex he could ever remember. 

What were the chances he could do that again? 

Maybe if he saved Q's life sometime, he could get down on his knees and ask for it. 

Picard moaned, just slightly, at the mental image. Then he tried to stop thinking about it, then he gave up trying and let every vivid detail rush to the front of his mind, reveling in how Q had tasted and felt, the sound of the cries he'd made, the smell of him, the sight of him in the sweat-damp softsuit, the hard way he'd come, right into his mouth, hitting the back of his throat, burning him. 

Picard became aware of how hard he'd gotten and rolled over on his stomach, shoving the book into the corner. 

Above Q's cock had been a lush thatch of dark hair. Picard himself was almost as bald below as he was on top, which was fun, considering how much hairier his own chest was than Q's. He was willing to bet that Q's ass cheeks were smooth as well. There'd been the softest down across his thighs... 

Picard moaned again and ground his hips against the bed, pressing against his erection, knowing in a minute he was going to touch himself, bring himself off, thinking about sucking on Q's cock. 

How many night could he get through this way? There were two more months left in their shift. 

And then it was just too much. Or too little. He didn't want to come in his bed like this, not when he'd had the actual thing just hours ago. The man rolled over on his back and just forced the protesting tension to drain out, sluggishly. In an hour, he was able to get to sleep. 

~~~//~~~ 

Beep. Beep. Beeeeeeeeeep. 

"Damnit, open up!" 

Picard's eyes cracked open in the dark as his hand fumbled for the light panel. He flipped it, and winced against the harsh glare until he could blink it into simple illumination. 

"Who is it?" he croaked, then cleared his voice. The clock told him it was 1:45 am. 

"Who the hell do you think?" 

Frowning at the voice's anger, dreading what it meant, Picard got out of the bed and wrapped up in his shower robe before taking the three steps to the door and keying it open. He looked up into Q's furious face and fell back to the center of his tiny quarters. Q stepped deliberately inside and let the door close before he hissed out: 

"You were asleep?" 

Picard shrugged, trying to read how this was to be played. Was Q going to get violent? Could he report him if he did? Or was he going to take a punch like some sort of repentant bottom? 

"Eventually," he said as evenly as he could. 

Q put his fists on his hips and breathed hard. 

"I thought you were with Ellen," Picard hazarded. 

"I was." 

Picard made a small gesture. "Look, Q --" 

"I had her tits in my hands. And they were nice and firm and -- shit." 

Picard stared at him, his heart trying to claw its way up his throat. 

"What the fuck did you do to me, Picard?" 

As there were about a hundred million ways Q could mean that question, Jean-Luc stayed silent. Q was in his glad rags, as he'd been at the bar, with a loose white shirt and tight black pants. His lips looked like they'd been kissing someone, and his hair was slightly mussed. Picard became abruptly aware of his own naked body under his thin dark blue robe. If he got hard now, there was a good chance Q might kill him. 

"What do you want from me?" Q whispered. 

Picard tried to shrug, and wasn't sure he made it. "You know." 

"I don't, actually." Q barked a laugh that made Jean-Luc jump. Q frowned at him. "Don't look at me like that." 

Picard cleared his throat. "Like what?" 

"Like I've pulled a knife in a dark alley. Don't you get it? I'm trying to understand what's going on here. I want to know what it means, that you...that you want me." 

"I want to be with you," Picard said, surrendering it, if that's what Q needed to get back to Ellen's firm tits. "I want us to be friends, like always. I want you not to hate me because I took advantage of you." 

Q laughed again. "You took advantage of me? As I recall, I was the one who got sucked off." 

Picard shrugged again. 

"Fuck you if you can't do better than this, Johnny." Picard made a sound of distress. Q took in a breath, held it. Let it out. "Look, are you...wanting to do that again?" 

"Suck you off?" 

"Yes." 

"Yes." 

Q nodded in satisfaction, his arms crossing over his chest. "What else?" 

"I want to kiss you again, all over, in the dark." 

Q's head bowed slightly while he absorbed that. When he looked back up, his eyes were fire. "So you...want me...like with a girl?" 

Picard smiled. "You're asking if I want to be inside you." 

Q seemed embarrassed by the naiveté of his last question. "Yeah, Jean-Luc. You wanna bend me over and fuck me in the ass?" 

Picard blinked. "Not...when you put it that way." 

Q frowned, then grunted in frustration. "But that does describe the basic action, right?" 

"I'd..." Picard squared his shoulders. "I'd be very gentle, Q." 

Q looked frightened, his eyes going to the door. "So, that's what you want, then? Most of all?" 

Picard smiled, unaware of the regret in his eyes. "Well, ultimately, I'd want you to take me." 

Q's jaw dropped, and Picard had to smother a laugh. "You...you want me to...to fuck you? In the ass?" 

"I told you, most especially I want us to be friends. But if you mean what I most want sexually, yes. I'd love to have you inside me." 

Q didn't seem to know how to take that, and turned, suddenly, trying to pace. The walls stopped him. 

"Damn cages," he muttered. His eyes went to Picard's, then dropped, examining him. "Fuck, Johnny. You're a guy." 

"I don't regret that." 

"I guess you don't, but..." Q looked up at the ceiling, then down again into his friend's eyes. "That was some of the best sex I ever had. I kept thinking, 'Johnny's giving me head,' and instead of cooling me off, it just made everything so hot." 

"I will do it again," Picard whispered. "If you want, I'll do it right now." 

"No, I...I want to give you what you want. I mean, shit, I was talking to Ellen, and she's a fine girl, but she's just like the others, and all I could think of was me in your mouth, and when I went down on her all I could think about was that it should be you I was licking out, but you're a guy and then...and then I had to stop, like an asshole, because I couldn't even get excited by her and I damn near cried I felt so guilty and she laughed and said she'd had her fun and I was to go find whoever was making me feel bad and stop playing around, and it was you, Jean-Luc, but you're..." 

"A guy." 

Q made a hopeless gesture with his hands that tore at Picard's heart. "Yeah." 

"Do you want to fuck me, Q?" 

Q repeated the gesture. "I tried it that way, a couple times, with women, but I didn't like it much." 

"No?" 

Q shrugged, annoyed. "They didn't seem to like it. I like giving women pleasure, watching them get caught up in it. This was more like watching them endure something." 

"You do know men get more out of anal penetration?" 

"Of course I do! It's just that, shit, Johnny. You really want it? I mean, I don't know I'd do it right." 

Picard closed his eyes. This wasn't happening. He wasn't getting everything he ever wanted, not like this, not like he was doing Q a favor. 

Jean-Luc ran his hands over his thighs, pressing the cloth momentarily against the erection he'd had for about five minutes now. Q noticed. 

"Q," he said softly, smiling a little. "Come here and take my robe off." 

Q gulped, just a bit, then stepped forward as though approaching a wild horse. He reached for Picard's robe tie and pulled on it, then seemed surprised when it actually untied and fell loose. Looking into Picard's eyes, he smiled a little, then pushed the robe off his shoulders and looked at the body revealed to him. The oddest expression crossed Q's face, and Jean-Luc took it as long as he could before asking, "What?" 

"You look like a statue, like I used to see in art class, when I was a kid." 

Picard chuckled, incredibly aware of every layer of clothing between them, all of it on Q's body. 

"You know," Q said playfully, drawing Picard's surprised eyes to his face. "We weren't allowed to touch the statues." 

Picard shrugged, feeling drunk. "I'm not a statue." 

"Well, part of you looks hard as a rock," Q leered. 

Jean-Luc laughed. 

"Do you want me to touch you there?" 

The question was playful again, but Picard answered seriously, "Touch me wherever you like." 

Carefully, Q put his hands on the shorter man's shoulders, then let his fingers trail down over his chest. Picard gasped quietly, unable to believe the heat rising up in his body. 

"You're so furry," Q whispered, smiling, looking at Picard's bald head. "Who would have thought it?" His fingertips played with the gray-black tufts between his high pectoral muscles, then moved out in a circle, before he took his pecs firmly in his hands, as he might a flat-chested woman, and squeezed, his thumbs finding Picard's nipples. 

Picard moaned, trying to keep it gentle, hovering suddenly on the verge of climax. Q looked so serious, so considerate, and so intrigued. His hands rose up to Q's chest, rested there, against the smooth material of his shirt. Again, he felt Q's muscles tense. 

"We need lubricant, don't we?" Q asked, almost sounding panicky. "I didn't think --" 

Jean-Luc put a finger over Q's lips, then traced them, marveling at their fullness. Q opened his mouth slightly, and he pushed gently inside, tracing the slick inner softness and thinking of how it felt to kiss him. Then he moved away, deliciously aware of Q's eyes on him, and opened the small drawer in the compact nightstand-cum-desk by his bed. He retrieved a tube of lubricant, and smiled. 

Q returned the expression, then frowned, looked down at himself, and started unbuttoning his shirt. 

"Let me..." Picard urged, dropping the tube on the bed and stepping forward. Efficiently, even though his hands were shaking a bit, he stripped Q, sitting him on his bed to take off his footwear, then standing him up and kneeling to take off his briefs, sighing in some relief when he saw that his partner was very aroused. He took his time now, examining, admiring. Q's cock was indeed about as long as his was, and as thick, though again he smiled at the dark curls of hair. He went to kiss him there, but Q pulled back. 

"No," Q said stubbornly. "You said you wanted me to fuck you." 

Picard grinned at him and laid down on the bed, patting the space beside himself. Q joined him, then leaned over and kissed him, a little hesitant at first, then pressing hard and opening his mouth. Picard groaned and parted his lips, rejoicing as Q's tongue went inside and explored. In a few moments, he was flat on his back with Q's body covering him like a blanket, and Q's kisses were heaven. 

Large warm hands were exploring him, gently, and he returned the gestures, trailing along the smooth back, tracing the firm muscles underneath. Q's body wasn't one that really showed off its physical strength, but he could feel it, along with the heat of him, the reality of him. 

"So long," he groaned out. "For so long I've wanted you in my bed." 

"What comes next?" Q asked eagerly, and it never occurred to Picard to find that open avidness anything but wildly arousing. He groped for the lubricant and spread his legs. 

"You're not going to roll over?" Q asked, watching, his hands moving over Picard's chest. 

"No." He spread his legs wider, and squeezed a dollop of lube on his fingers before reaching down to his own opening and oiling the rim of muscle. Q watched with wide eyes, then looked distressed. 

"I want to do that." 

Picard closed his eyes as the wave rode him, then opened them to gaze up at Q as he passed him the tube. His partner took a generous helping of lubricant, then moved down and applied it gently around the rim, then pressed to get inside. Heat washed up, and Picard moaned. Q smiled and explored a bit, watching his responses carefully. When he hit that spot, Picard arched his back and groaned, and Q smiled in triumph and pressed that spot again, and again, while Jean-Luc began to groan steadily. 

When Q chuckled, Picard's slick hand found Q's cock, stroking and oiling, and Q grew very quiet, except for his breathing, which grew considerably louder. For many long moments, they kept a sort of balance, with Picard stroking Q's erection, and Q fucking Picard with his fingers. 

Picard broke it, unable to stand the tease any longer. "Please, inside me now." 

"Do you have any idea what you look like?" Q asked wildly, still stroking his prostate with long fingers. "You're all spread out and so fucking hot I can't stand it. You saved my life last week, with those boosters." 

"I just read the panel indicator." 

"And damn near tore my arm off getting me out of the way of the blast. I always thought, in a fight, you could probably take me. And now I'm going to fuck you." 

Picard groaned, loudly, and arched his back, his heels digging into Q's hips. "Hurry then and do it!" 

"What's it like?" Q gasped, pulling his fingers out. "What does it feel like to want it in the ass?" 

"Empty," Picard whimpered, spreading himself out more. He was shaking now, close to tears, wanting it so badly he could barely speak. "Wanting to be filled up with your cock." He stroked Q lightly and then took gentle hold, guiding him in. 

Q moved his hips forward, resting the soft, blunt head against the relaxed opening, and then he swooped down to encircle Picard's left nipple with his lips, sucking hard. 

Picard hissed and sobbed, arching into it, grabbing Q's hands and placing them against his thighs, showing Q how to press his knees down and bring his rear up. A drop of oil gathered with sweat on one buttock and dripped down to the bed. He thought he would start screaming. 

The pressure began, and he held his breath, shuddering, as the swollen head of Q's penis pressed inside him. He wanted to tell Q to thrust in hard, but he couldn't speak anymore, and Q was being so gentle that his chest tightened, and one of the many tears which had threatened escaped his eye, running back to pool in his ear, and he laughed brokenly. 

"More," he managed to get out, and Q pushed harder, pushed inside, through the resistant muscle, and then on inside, slick with lubricant, thick with muscle and blood. 

"Oh, God!" he shouted as the pain and pleasure stabbed him. 

"You...all right?" Q gasped. 

"It's been so long. More, please, Q." 

Picard wanted to stare into those dark eyes he knew were staring into his face, but he couldn't open his eyes, couldn't bear the pleasure of the onslaught any way other than to shut his eyes against the brilliance of it and just feel that pressure in his body, pushing against the back of his cock, filling him while wave after wave of shuddering heat rose from his legs, his ass, up through his body. His head flung back as he slid a hand to his erection, only to feel his hand pushed away. Then came a warm, firm stroke against his cock, and he screamed again. 

"I love you," he sobbed, not able to help it. 

"Oh...shit, Johnny," Q moaned, then started thrusting insistently, burying himself inside him over and over and over while his hand kept stroking. 

Somehow, Jean-Luc got his eyes open, and then found he couldn't move, looking at Q's face, so serious, so intent, staring into his own. Q's movements were perfect, a dance of pleasure, blurred by more tears. 

"You feel so good," Q rasped out, fucking him harder. "Tight and hot and...oh...fuck!" He bent down again and kissed him, fiercely, and Picard gave back everything he could, clenching down around him on the way in, letting up when he withdrew, running his hands over Q's chest, whispering his name again and again. 

And then he knew he wasn't going to last much longer, and tried to warn Q, who seemed to know already and pumped him harder still with his cock and his hand, and Picard arched into the fire and came as hard as he'd ever come, harder, slammed back against the bed with the rough ecstasy of it, riding it back and back, hearing Q scream, feeling hot cum inside his body, adding to the explosion into which he turned, offering up all he had, until it took everything he was. 

"Jean-Luc?" a voice asked some while later. 

"Hmm?" 

"Just...making sure you're okay." 

Picard smiled and snuggled back into Q's arms a little more snugly. In a while, they'd shower, but for now he didn't care about the cum drying on his body, only about the warmth which filled him and covered him and made him feel complete and completely safe. 

"Johnny?" 

"Yes, Q?" 

"You know, couples get larger quarters than singles. We could, you know, tell 'em we want to move in together, and they'd give us one of those rooms in Beta Section." 

Picard closed his eyes. This wasn't happening. He wasn't getting everything he ever wanted, not like this. 

"Sounds like a plan," he managed to whisper, and then felt Q nod against him as they tucked in against each other even tighter, and went to sleep. 

THE END


End file.
